


The Mundane Sacrilege

by Amanaj



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Ravenclaw x Gryffindor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-05 16:33:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15174809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amanaj/pseuds/Amanaj
Summary: They thought that because she was a Ravenclaw, she would be a prodigy. They thought she'd be the good little girl who kept her hands clean and her head down. But the reality was that she would be just another casualty of war, even if she survived. So why not have a little fun? Her mastery of legilimens could be useful in a game of cat and mouse.





	1. Fourth time is the charm

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be honest. This is the first thing I've written in almost ten years. I thought I'd give it a try.

__

She wanted so badly to blame the Salem Witch Academy.

 

I wasn’t sure if I should be concerned or not. Usually, I was on the receiving end of her wrath. After all, this wasn’t my first time being kicked out of a school. And, my mother, like my teachers, generally wasn’t appreciative of what most schools referred to as my “rowdiness.”

 

And this was my third strike out.

 

But, as I said, this wasn’t anything close to the usual.

 

As my mother nursed what I assumed to be a massive hangover, she murmured her disapproval, “A useless school. I should have known that headmistress didn’t have what it takes to discipline her students.”

 

Ah. This was more in the realm of normality.

 

The Salem Witch Academy was, contrary to her opinion, a prestigious school. Most considered it to be on par with Hogwarts or Beauxbatons. And, unlike my previous schools, it was hidden in the city.

 

Oh, the city.

 

With all the whining, I hadn’t bothered to ask where my mother was planning to ship me off to. But I could guarantee it wouldn’t be in the city. Especially since sneaking out to see the city was my latest transgression against the education system.

 

I couldn’t help it. The city had its attraction.

 

If I had to describe Salem, it would be as a young woman. It was a mix of the new and old, the modern minimalism and the art deco. She was the kind of city that changed her style every couple of days, reinventing what she wanted to be when she grew up. There was an appeal in being able to change yourself at whim.

 

The school reflected the personality of the city. It was organized similarly to the muggle’s college campuses. This was partially due to paranoia. After the trials of 1692, the school had spread its classes between multiple buildings. I suspected they hoped that, in the case of an attack, this tactic would guarantee the safety of some students. But the end result was the clashing of muggle and wizarding culture.

 

Maybe that played a part in Salem’s personality Maybe Salem was, after everything that happened, also a witch.

 

The thought passed.

 

“I suppose there’s another school waiting for me.”

 

Oh, if looks could kill.

 

My mother was generally considered a beautiful woman. Everything about her was high cheekbones, clear skin, and endearing smiles. The only time she was truly ugly was when her personality was on full display. And, man, was her personality her worst feature.

 

This was no exception.

 

Smoothing her pin curls out of the way, she fixed me with a glare that would have injured my pride, if I hadn’t been long accustomed to it.

 

“well, I certainly don’t want you hanging around the house. I have business and you will get underfoot.”

 

“I won’t bother unpacking then.”

 

I wouldn’t argue with her, just like I hadn’t when she shipped me off to the Greek institute for Advanced Magic or Ilvermorny.

 

With a flamboyant flick of her wrist, she slid a pair of sunglasses on.

 

“Excellent. The headmaster promised you a place at Hogwarts. I’d start practicing that accent you don’t seem to have, if I were you.”


	2. The ego of preteen girls

I wished my mother was the joking type.

Instead, she tended towards vindictive pettiness. It was a trait that ran in our family. But this particular brand of pettiness didn’t make sense. Not when I’d lived the majority of my life with an ocean between us.

Despite being born in London, I had never spent an extensive amount of time in Great Britain. Genevieve had loved the city too much to abandon it. Instead, she left me with her old nanny in America and returned to her life in London.

When I turned 10-years-old, I had wondered where I would go to school. Ilvermorny? Hogwarts?

I had hoped it would be the latter and Hogwarts would spark a newfound sense of familial bonds. Imagine my surprise when she shipped me off to an entirely different country.

But now, as I stared up at the flying buttresses and looming towers of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, it occurred to me that this wouldn’t change anything.

“Miss Black.”

Annoyed and caught off guard; these were the words that would probably be etched on my tombstone.

Engrossed in my own thoughts, the sound of robes swishing around the corner had been silent. Now they, like the wizard, stood at attention.

“Professor.”

His mouth pulled up at the corners in idle amusement, knowing he had startled me.

_Little shit._

He gestured to me to follow down the hall of flickering torchlight, past suits of armor and gossiping painting.

“We’ve been expecting you. I daresay you have missed dinner. Our caretaker, Argus Filch, has set your trunks aside,” up the winding staircase and down a series of hallways, it was a maze designed to wreak havoc on my sense of direction, “Once you are sorted, your trunks will be delivered to your dormitory.”

The lecture turned to school rules and the hallway turned to Dumbledore’s office. There wasn’t much time to dwell on the hoard of books lining his office walls or even the platter of food set aside. More intriguing was the flop of brown sack laid across the tea table.

“Like Ilvermorny, Hogwarts students are sorted into houses. I’m assuming you are familiar with the concept?”

“Yes. Although, I have a funny feeling a statue doesn’t yell at me if it wants me.”

He unfolds the lump of brown sack until it’s lopsided mouth, ripped through the brim, was free to yawn.

_“I would say that I am not a statue. More of a shelved trinket, most of the time.”_

“So… a statuette?”

_“Humorous.”_

“I try.”

Despite the sarcasm, this was not something I signed up for. I didn’t enjoy the idea of anyone—anything—rummaging around in my brain.

_“Don’t tell me you’re scared.”_

“More in the territory of wary.”

_“Afraid of what I might find?”_

“Again, it’s not necessarily fear. It’s an acknowledgement that information, in the wrong hands, can be dangerous.”

_“Then you have nothing to worry. I haven’t any hands.”_

Pondering on the attitude of theoretically inanimate objects was pointless. Better to put the hat on and get sorted.

_“To the point. How very unlike your father.”_

“Oh? You mean I wasn’t an immaculate conception?”

Even as the quip rolled off my tongue, I knew it invited the hat’s interest. Contrary to the quip, I knew I had a father. He was another unspoken, but realized, truth in my life.

_“An attitude tempered by necessity. I can appreciate that in someone your age. It shows resilience.”_

Survival of the fittest, straight from the textbook.

The hat made a wheezing sound that mimicked laughter.

_“You have a sharp tongue. Not what I expected from an Ilvermorny Thunderbird. A thought the whole lot was more… relaxed.”_

“A stereotype, I assure you.”

_“A clever girl like you… You have the means and need to find an end. We had better make it Ravenclaw.”_

The snake house? Wait, no… the bird. 


	3. Two houses alike in fair dignity try to murder each other, probably

“So, Gryffindor and Slytherin are über competitive in every possible way.”

 

My new transfiguration partners had spent the class period trying to lay out the social hierarchy of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, I had a suspicion the opinions were wildly biased.

 

The two of them were the kind of girls who buttoned their shirts all the way to the top and tucked them into their pants; they followed the rules and they stayed out of trouble.

 

Fay was a tall Gryffindor girl. She fit her own description of Gryffindor: outgoing and friendly, with a social ease that bordered on bravery. When she spoke, it was loudly enough for nearby students to overhear. When she was quiet, she twisted her hair around her finger until it was coiled so tightly it hurt her scalp.

 

The Ravenclaw was Olivia. Given the option, she would have let Fay babble on until the end of time. Instead of commenting on inter-house rivalry, her focus was to systematically deconstruct the instructions on the board. Once in a while, when necessary, she would interject to defend the other houses.

 

“Slytherin isn’t a house of evil, Fay.”

 

The tone was heavy, an indication the two of them had this argument regularly.

 

“Right. Because correlation, not causation? Olivia, a majority of the house are the children of Death Eaters.”

 

Nearby students squirmed at the accusing tone. Olivia, however, wasn’t fazed.

 

“My sister is a Slytherin and she isn’t a Death Eater.”

 

“An exception to the rule.”

 

I didn’t need my legilimency skills to be certain that Olivia wasn’t the type to start a physical fight. But I was willing to bet that she was protective of her family. The conversation wouldn’t end well if it continued. Luckily, it seemed the Professor was more than willing to put an end to it.

 

“Miss Dunbar, Miss Harding. That is enough. I’m not seeing any progress on those teacups and I expect them to have your full and undivided attention.”

 

Professor McGonagall’s tone was no nonsense. I’d known plenty of people who had the ability to command a room with their very presence and she rivaled the best of them. That wasn’t to say she was physically intimidating. But she had the aura of someone who had no problem putting you down if necessary.

 

She turned on me.

 

“Miss Black, if I’m not incorrect?”

 

I had noticed the hesitation before she said my name but couldn’t pinpoint the reason for it.

 

“Uhh… Yeah. That is me.”

 

Astounding silence. Multiple pairs of eyes turned to stare. I wondered why. She wasn’t really _that_ intimidating.

 

“In my classroom, you would do well to focus on the lesson instead of listening to gossip.”

 

Did I want detention on my first day? I guess I wanted detention on my first day.

 

“I promise you that I am an excellent multi-tasker.”

 

But McGonagall seemed completely uninterested in punishing me. In fact, she seemed almost as if she was caught in a moment of déjà vu. After a moment, she turned away as if once I was out of sight then I would be out of mind.

 

For the next hour everyone exchanged looks behind my back, when they were sure I wouldn’t notice. The looks continued as students poured into the hallways, stumbling over each other in a hurry to get to their next class. I followed Olivia as she abandoned Fay to the crowd.

 

“So how much do I have to pay you to tell me what’s going on?”

 

Olivia attempted to feign innocence.

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t play coy. It doesn’t suit you,” I replied mildly, “Contrary to popular opinions, Americans are not actually oblivious. And I am fully aware of the stares. I want to know why.”

 

Olivia looked thoughtful for a moment, “Why do you call yourself American? I heard you were born in London.”

 

I snorted. Was I really the topic of gossip? That sounded… unbearably boring.

 

“I was raised in America. Don’t change the subject.”

 

Olivia sighed, resigned to my persistence, “Look. It’s just a bad time to have your name.”

 

“As far as I’m aware, spelling aside, there is absolutely nothing special about the name Ani.”

 

“I meant your last name.”

 

“What about it?”

 

“I guess everyone wants to know if you’re related to Sirius Black.”

 

I racked my brain but couldn’t think of a face to go with the name.

 

“Who?”

 

Olivia stared at me disbelieving, like a dragon who had suddenly grown a third head.

 

“Sirius Black? He was the Death Eater who killed a bunch of people after turned the Potter’s over to You-Know-Who,” she said seriously, “He recently escaped from Azkaban. Didn’t you hear about it?”

 

“Man, you guys have a lot of evil wizards running around up here. But no, America doesn’t pay a lot of attention to world news unless it directly affects them.”

 

“So, they are sort of oblivious.”

 

I eyed Olivia sideways. It was the first jab she’d gotten in all afternoon.

 

“Yeah. Kind of.”

 

She smiled at me and then smiled over my shoulder. I turned just as another girl approached. With hair that swung as she bounded our way, she smiled cheerfully at us. There didn’t appear to be any immediate cattiness. That was a relief. She even managed to curb the curiosity that lit up in her eyes once she saw me.

 

“This is my sister, London.” Olivia directed at me, “London, this is Ani Black.”

 

Once pleasantries were exchanged, London joined us.

 

“You have Defense against the Dark Arts next right?”

 

I snuck a peak at the schedule I had tucked into the back of my textbook, “I think so.”

 

“We do,” Olivia interjected, “with the Hufflepuffs.”

 

London nodded sagely, “That sounds like a fun time.”

 

Olivia smiled widely.

 

“I take it Gryffindor and Slytherin are having a hard time getting along?”

 

“You could say that. The other day one of the Slytherins picked a fight with a Gryffindor. The two really went at it. Someone said they were vowing murder on each other, but I think that’s just a rumor since Professor Lupin didn’t seem worried.”

 

The two had lost me.

 

Vowing murder? That seemed wildly excessive. What was going on with this ridiculous inter-house rivalry?  


End file.
